CHALLENGER'S RAP

• We're in end times cousin
• cussing me with your wack rhymes
• while the prevailing social paradigm's crime
• and tickets to paradise cost a dime,
• but all you've got are cents.
• Walk the walk and talk the talk,
• cock your glock and stop the clock
• of another man,
• of a brother, of a son,
• of a loving father, who worked harder
• than any other jobless bum on the block
• just to get backshots in the back and
• a dose of community solidarity in his cap.
•  
• They say impunity under the law,
• is just a symptom of your circumstance -
• a childhood with no purse or parents;
• a hard life freed by the trigger pull
• of another L-shaped curse.
• The sky darkens,
• a psychedelic death harkens:
• those who failed to find reprieve in the barrel of a gun,
• now find it in the eyes of another cocaine dealing sleaze.
• 1, 2 , 3, 4, 5 dead homies digging the cold dirt,
• chatting up spirits in their blood stained shirts.
•  
• But lady death doesn't do first dates;
• she'll put a ring on your finger,
• tag on your toe,
• cut your heartstring from the spindle of fate,
• then thank you for not turning up late.
• And you'll go to the cinema
• watch a movie of your life
• but it's so unoriginal the critics give it a 3 out of 10.